


Behind Strange Eyes

by FrauleinFangirl



Category: American Horror Story: Freak Show
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, F/M, Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrauleinFangirl/pseuds/FrauleinFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haunted by his failure at Elsa's freak show after unintentionally murdering Maggie Esmerelda, magician Chester Creb is put into rehab for PTSD and other mental disabilities. But, one evening, Chester escapes the asylum in order to pursue a redeeming future, unaware of the wonderful and horrifying consequences that follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Strange Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> All I request as a fan-fiction author is to LEAVE FEEDBACK. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing. Enjoy the story!

   A scream startles him from his nightmare. He sits upright, panting, with sweat dripping down his bare chest. He has never seen so much blood… especially from his own, forced hand.

  Chester cups his mouth and lunges out of bed. He sprints across the room to the bathroom, flips on the light switch, and hurls violently in the toilet.

  When he finally lifts his head, tears stream down his eyes. Sprawled on the floor, he murmurs over and over under his breath, “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

  Ah, yes… Maggie Esmerelda. The young, innocent girl who lacked knowledge of Chester’s hallucinations and PTSD symptoms right before he sawed her in half during the magic show… literally.

  He shudders, staggering to his feet. He flushes away his sickness and washes up in the sink. He drowns a small towel in cool water before wrapping it around his neck. His temperature begins to drop steadily as he strolls back into the cramped bedroom.

  Standing at the window, Chester pushes aside the ratty curtain and gazes outside. The sky is grayer than ever. Fog blankets the ghostly town, while odd-shaped snowflakes descend to the ground in an uneven pattern. But, they’re so thin they barely cover the streets. The sight almost resembles a scene from _Silent Hill_ , minus the eerie blare of the siren and the world revamping into a demonic cornucopia.

  Chester wants out of this place. He doesn’t belong here, though his flaws make it so. Asylums are for loons, mentally disturbed people. Unfortunately, his mind has fallen into that category. His life as a skilled magician has come to an end. As a result, he truly believes there is no hope for him.

  Maybe his wife was right: perhaps he _should have_ died during the war.

  Shivers run down Chester’s spine. His body temperature has returned to normal at last. He removes the towel and tosses it in the hamper for the laundry lady to pick up in the morning. He climbs back into bed and shuts his eyes, hoping the nightmares of Elsa’s freak show don’t revisit him.

  ***

  The morning remains the same lousy, tedious routine it has always been: get up, shower, and wait to be served breakfast. After that, the nurse takes you outside and gives you a dose of fresh air. But, you can’t venture off past the black gates-- front or back-- or security tackles you and gives you a sedative until you’re spitting out the most random shit.

  After a distasteful breakfast, Chester has given up on playing cards with the group of schizophrenic men and decides to stand on the rooftop balcony another hour longer. It takes his mind off the fact that he would probably never be a part of reality again without someone constantly examining him over his shoulder. All he could manage is pretending, and he’s smart enough to know that’s a load of horseshit.

  However, Chester tries to place himself in another reality where he’s the finest magician anyone has ever seen. He sets one foot on the edge of the building, takes a deep breath, and then gives a speech before displaying his greatest performance onstage. He imagines the audience “oohing” and “ahhing” as he impresses them with each trick up his sleeve. Finally, at the end, he always performs his greatest act, in which he leads a group of acrobats through hoops, over bars and across tightropes.

_If only I could do that without chopping up somebody to death,_ Chester snarls to himself.

  As he stands there on the rooftop, gazing at the empty street, a door opens behind him. Heels click across the concrete, and it’s obvious one of the nurses has come to check on one of the patients. But Chester doesn’t turn around until the very last minute, finding himself face to face with his personal nurse, Janet.

  She stands in an all-white dress and nurse’s hat, with her sandy-blond hair tied in a bun. She swallows anxiously when she notices Chester’s sour expression, retracting slightly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Creb, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just came from the laundry hall to deliver your clean clothes.”

  “Please… call me Chester.”

  Janet blinks for a moment. Then she nods. “Right… _Chester._ You should get dressed. And my Lord, please throw a jacket on! Winter is headed our way. You must be freezing.”

  Chester snorts. “Janet, please, the cold doesn’t bother me. Hell’s frozen over my soul, so I’ve grown numb to it.”

  Janet stares at him for a long time before smiling uncomfortably. To save her the embarrassment, Chester tears his eyes away from hers. He’s aware that Janet is attempting to turn him into a decent man again, to pretend he never murdered Lucy and Alice and Maggie, but he knows better. He sees fear in Janet’s eyes, and she should be afraid. Chester will never be able to go back from that, not ever.

  “Please Mr. Cr-... I mean, _Chester…_ for my sake.” Janet shoves the jeans and white t-shirt into his hands while eyeing his pajamas.

  Chester is surprised by her insistence, but he takes the load anyway. He looks at her sorrowfully and replies, “Well, your sake might be getting placed in the wrong hands, ma’am.”

  Intending to end the conversation, he brushes past Janet gently so he can return to his room and change. He doesn’t wish to hear more lies about how he could become a good man again. The thought churns his stomach.

  “Maybe not!” the feminine voice calls out.

  Chester freezes, cocking his head.

  “You’ll never believe me, but there are ways to make yourself a better man, Chester. You have to learn to trust yourself first; you seem to have lost that. But, once you do that, others will trust you again.”

  Chester doubts that, but some place in his heart beats softly to the hope in Janet’s tone.

  “Besides, we’re all twisted in the mind someway, right?” The nurse shrugs.

  Chester hesitates for a while. When his mouth works again, he mutters back, “Right.” And then he departs through the door.

  ***

  A week later, in the middle of the night, Chester thinks back on Janet’s words while he watches the same, odd-shaped snowflakes plummet to the ground. He’s doubted himself for so long, but now he wonders if there is hope for him after all. He’s still scarred for life because of the murders he committed, thanks to Marjorie for manipulating his conscious, though there’s redemption. In addition, his nightmares have disappeared, and he no longer hears violent voices in his head.

  “I can finally become the greatest magician ever. _Without_ help from Elsa and her freak show.” Chester whispers aloud, smiling to himself.

  A plan builds itself together inside Chester’s twisted mind, and before he knows it he’s packing a briefcase with clothes and other necessities, including his old magic belongings. At last, he opens the window. A cold chill rushes in. He tosses a rope-- courtesy of a former magic show-- over the ledge of the window. Then, he climbs outside and carefully descends to the ground. He lands with a soft thud, grunting in the process.

  Chester glances back up at the open window. He smiles, realizing reality is right around the corner. He yanks the rope down and stuffs it into his briefcase. After double-checking his blind spots, he quietly sprints toward the black gates.

  Two security men sit inside the guard booth by the front entrance. Chester ducks into a bush nearby and surveys his surroundings. They’re busy watching _I Love Lucy_ on television, but Chester is sure they’d spot him if he snuck directly out the gate.

  Chester digs inside his briefcase and removes a magic hat. He smirks and shoves his hand inside until he finds what he’s searching for. In his hand, he grasps three firework sticks. So, keeping the guards in his sight, he races across the lawn and displays them separately. He avoids setting them near the search lights. Once they’re positioned, he creates a spark with his hands, lighting them quickly. He dashes back behind the nearest bush and waits for the magic to begin.

_Pow! Pow! Pow!_ The sticks boom to life and explode into colorful fireworks. The security guards jump out of their seats in shock, cursing in the process. They shout across the lawn for the other guards to assist them. The search lights beam down furiously on the lawn.

  Meanwhile, Chester snickers and runs to the gate. He grips the black bars and crawls upward, avoiding the spikes at the top. He carefully pulls his legs over and slides down the other side. Finally his feet hit the ground, though he ends up tripping over the curb and landing on his back. He staggers to his feet before sprinting down the empty, snowy street.

  Chester pants heavily as he halts in the middle of the haunted town. He hears yelling and sirens blaring back at the asylum, but it no longer associates with him. He’s closing that door and opening a new one, no matter how twisted his mind may be. And this one, he hopes, will allow him to become a better man.

  With a deep inhale, Chester turns away and hauls himself forward toward a journey he thought he’d never commence.


End file.
